Office Space
by Appointment
Summary: "My only piece of advice to you? Don't have an office romance." — Ichigo gets more than the proposed job description. modern au. grimmichi, ulquihime, renruki. rated for sexy office romance and grimmjow's foul mouth.
1. Chapter 1

"I quit."

"Excuse me?"

Ichigo Kurosaki stood coolly in front of his boss' desk, hands in his pockets. Yuuto Watanabe, founder and president of _Shin'ō's Digest_, bent over a single piece of paper in the center of his desk. Titled in fine print, it read: '_Letter of Resignation_'.

"I quit."

Yuuto sat up straight in his desk chair, staring hard at his subordinate.

"What do you mean you quit?" Yuuto gawked at Ichigo, hanging on his response. "You're our top sports marketer! You brought in every brand name we've got, for Christ's sake!"

Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I need to do what's best for me."

"Like hell, best for you! This company is what's best for you!"

"I hate to say it," replied Ichigo, grimacing, "but it isn't. I'm very grateful for the support you've given me as a writer, and for my time here, but it's come to an end and I was hoping to give you my notice respectfully."

"You were offered another job."

"Pardon me?" Ichigo shifted uncomfortably; he had not expected such an outward reaction from his boss.

"Who was it?" Yuuto demanded. "_Nakuri Monthly_? _Hokutan Beat_? _The Dangai_? Or was it those bastards at _The Maggot's Nest_?"

"Sir, I don't have another job lined up. I only feel as if my time at this company has ended – it's all right there on the letter – I'm truly sorry."

There was silence for a moment, before his red-faced boss spoke again.

"You're not quitting."

"Sir_—_"

"You're not quitting, because you're fired."

"What?"

Yuuto stood from his desk, striding up and over to Ichigo.

"Sir—!"

"You're done! Pack up your things and get the hell out."

Yuuto was practically chasing Ichigo out of his office at this point, pushing him through the doorframe with sheer force of will. Ichigo stepped back, uncaring for the idea of a physical altercation with a former employer.

"But—"

"NOW!"

With that, he slammed the door to his office in Ichigo's face. The ginger turned around, embarrassed to find nearly everyone in the office was peering over their cubicles, struggling to watch the squabble without being obvious. Ichigo swallowed hard on the way to his smaller office. He certainly hadn't expected Watanabe to react in such outward anger. Of course, he was in a high enough position to be given an office, but he definitely wasn't irreplaceable. Plenty of capable journalists and marketers sat in those tiny cubicles, many of them probably even more deserving of their own space.

Ichigo picked up an empty paper bin and began placing the things on his desk inside of it. After some time, the office was empty, save for a small bookcase, desk and chair. He took out his phone, passing off a quick message to his ride home. Ichigo grabbed his electronics and stuffed them inside of his messenger bag. He swung the heavy bag around his shoulders, and picked up the paper bin with one hand, propping it against his side. Shutting the light off, he stepped out of the office. A few stragglers still tried for the transitory curious glance from behind their workstations, but Ichigo paid no mind. He was about to step away, just before placing the paper bin down for a moment. He faced the door, and slid his metal nameplate from the slot in the middle, pocketing it.

On his way out, he passed a brief wave to those in the office who may have still been staring, though he didn't turn his back. He'd never made many friends within the office itself; even the secretary, Mahana, had spoken very few words to Ichigo during his time at the company. He looked around the lobby of the main floor when he arrived, but disappointingly, he saw no familiar face, and proceeded to his exit.

"Finished your notice already?" came a familiar voice.

Ichigo turned to see Sado Yasutora, the building's day security. He was a large man, who towered even over Ichigo, who was quite tall to begin with.

"I actually just handed it in," said Ichigo, "but Watanabe wouldn't take it, and fired me instead."

"Never liked the guy." the tall man said simply. It was quiet for a moment, before Sado spoke again. "I'll miss seeing you around, Ichigo."

"We'll stay in touch." Ichigo smiled warmly at the man, who he had grown to like very much. On his first day at the magazine, the elevator had broken, and the only way up was through the split staircase, which had proven quite troublesome when Ichigo was unable to find his particular office floor. Wandering around lost, he'd stumbled upon the security guard, who had shown him where to go. Since then, the two had been friendly, making conversation whenever time allowed, and hanging out when the workday was short and lenient.

Ichigo passed his phone number onto Sado, and they spoke quietly amongst one another, until a sleek, black sedan pulled up in front of the doors.

"Well, that's my ride," said Ichigo, gesturing towards the luxury vehicle. "I'll see you around?"

Sado nodded, and held the door open for the man. "See you, Ichigo."

Ichigo nodded back, grateful for the hand of help, and walked up to the car. The door seemed to open on its own, though behind it, was a slim, pale female, leant over to push the door open. She blew upwards, pushing dark strands from her eyes to reveal clear, amethyst eyes that shone warmly.

"Thanks, Rukia," he said, stuffing the box into the floor of the passenger's seat. He climbed in, holding his legs close, cursing her brother's choice of a small, efficient vehicle for her birthday. "This car isn't made for someone of my size."

"You could've put that in the trunk," she replied, putting the vehicle in drive and pulling out of the lot. "How'd it go?"

"Terrible; Watanabe threw me out."

"I was wondering why you were packing up so early," she said, eyebrow cocked though her focus remained on the road. "I thought you were quitting."

"I was in the middle of it when he fired me."

Rukia made a curt noise of understanding. "Well, you've got great timing, because I'm on my way to work right now."

"Isn't my apartment on the other side of the city?"

"We're not going to your apartment." she replied, smirking. "I have a few people I want to introduce you to."

"Wait, what? What does that have to—"

"Are you forgetting what I do for a living?"

Ichigo took a moment before light bulbs began flashing in his head. Rukia was a head hunter for _Konso_, a popular magazine, far more renowned than minor _Shin'ō's Digest._

"You're fucking kidding me."

"Why would I be? I got Orihime a job, didn't I?"

"Orihime's more qualified than I am. This is _Konso, _Rukia. One of the biggest magazines in the country. As in, I have no potential in that kind of environment."

"Who are you trying to kid, Ichigo? You get this business. You know sports, you're an amazing writer." she said, finally turning to look at him while stopped at a light. "Look, simply put. I know you. And I know that you're good at your job. That's why you quit, isn't it? The company wasn't fulfilling you anymore. Don't you want something more challenging?"

Ichigo was left speechless as she began to drive again. Sure, he was a little unsure of his skill, but Rukia was right about one thing – he craved challenge. He sat soundlessly for a minute before turning to her again.

"I need to change my clothes."

"Like I'm going to drive you over to your apartment so you can change," Rukia replied sarcastically, smirking. "You look fine."

"The office is too far from my new place."

"Your car's in the shop, it's not going to be gone _forever_," she sighed. "Come on, Ichigo."

"I don't have a resume."

"I've told them everything they need to know."

"I didn't brush my teeth this morning."

"Stop making excuses, dumbass. We're here, anyways."

Rukia pulled into the underground parking lot, flashing her ID card at the parkade security. When they were finally parked, the raven-haired girl glanced at Ichigo, a grin plastered on her face.

"You ready?"

* * *

Genryūsai Yamamoto sat behind his desk, listening to about the hundredth person hoping to fill the position of being the new sports section art director of _Konso_, the magazine he headed. Editor, Yoruichi Shihōin, leant back against the wall, arms folded, listening raptly. Her golden eyes appeared lacklustre, filled with boredom.

Against the complaint of many, he was going to go with an outside hire, though he was aware the hunt would not be easy. Now, he was sitting and listening to some man rambling on about how he would be the best for the magazine. He stared for a second before standing and speaking.

"I want to thank you for coming, but there are others who wish to be interviewed. You will be contacted by either myself, or editor Yoruichi Shihōin. Good day."

Yamamoto escorted the young man out of his office. He breathed deeply as he sat back down, thinking.

"Every person who has come through this door has been an idiot," Yoruichi spoke bitterly, rather brash. Yamamoto did not acknowledge her as she continued to speak. "Either that, or simply incapable of the job. Damn, Shiba was one of a kind."

"Kaien's resignation is of our least concern at this time."

Yamamoto spoke with finality; Yoruichi had nothing more to say.

Going through the rest of the files, Yamamoto sorted them into the usual labelled baskets – simply categorized by _NO_, _YES_, and _SECOND INTERVIEW_. Yoruichi snorted at the dangerously low _YES_ pile.

The only one in the stack had yet to be opened. Upon emptying the file, Yamamoto came across a name that seemed familiar. 'Ichigo Kurosaki' was the name.

"Rukia Kuchiki's reference," said Yoruichi, speaking aloud what Yamamoto had been thinking. "Are we still waiting on her to bring him in?"

The man in the chair reorganized the file, placing it neatly in front of himself.

"She left message with Hinamori at the front desk, approximately twenty minutes ago," he said. "He should be here any moment now."

* * *

In the elevator, Ichigo could not stop fidgeting with his tie. Straightening it, loosening it, tightening it – a nervous habit. Rukia slapped his hand in an attempt to quell his anxious twiddling.

"Calm down," said Rukia, who looked as complacent as ever. "It's no big deal. They're going to hire you, anyways."

"You don't know that," said Ichigo, who had now stuffed his hands into his pockets. Rukia smirked at him as the elevator doors opened, leaving Ichigo worried. Stepping out of the small compartment, Ichigo took in the grand office space. It was much more aesthetically pleasing than the old, dreary building he was just in. Large windows took up great wall space, and with whatever wasn't covered by glass, had a print-size magazine cover framed upon it. The floor was large, and with what couldn't fit on just one, a spiral staircase ascended to the next floor, where Ichigo could only assume more workspace was accrued.

"Good afternoon, Rukia," spoke a woman who Ichigo could only assume to be the receptionist. "And guest. Is this the one you were talking about?"

Rukia greeted the receptionist back, smiling convivially. "Yes, hopefully our new sports director."

Ichigo waved at the girl, feeling somewhat awkward. He wanted to berate himself, nervous for a job interview. He was a grown man – this was no time for the jitters.

"Hey, Rukia," came a voice from an approaching man. He was tall and lean, shaggy, pale blonde hair falling just over his eyes. He looked over at Ichigo, something mischievous hiding in his grey eyes. "This the new meat? Urahara, nice to meet you." He extended a hand towards the orange-haired man, who took it in a firm shake.

"Don't make him nervous, Kisuke," chastised Rukia. Kisuke only continued to smile at Ichigo, who almost shrunk into himself.

"Yoruichi's gonna fry him like a steak, I can already see it." Ichigo blanched. "Nice meeting you, Ichigo."

The man disappearing, turning off somewhere in between the workspaces. Rukia sighed.

"Don't pay any attention to him; he just likes to start trouble."

"I can see that," muttered Ichigo.

Rukia began walking towards a set of double doors at the end of the office, and Ichigo followed suit. They stopped in front of the entrance, where she began to take her leave.

"I have to start work now, so it's all on you, got it?" she said, trying to sound as encouraging as possible. "Just be yourself. I set everything else up for you, so try not to worry as much. Yoruichi can sense that kind of stuff."

Ichigo felt somewhat less heartened, especially after all of this talk of 'Yoruichi', and whoever that was, they sounded rather intimidating. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Underneath his fist, the door yanked open, mid-knock. A tanned woman stared out from behind the door, her golden eyes piercing into him. She stared for just a moment before a cat-like grin spread across her face.

"You must be Ichigo," she said, "Come on in."

To Ichigo's surprise, she grabbed him by the wrist and actually pulled him in. She closed the door behind him, then rounding off to the other side of the desk. An elderly man sat poised in the desk chair, staring forward.

He looked around cautiously. It was a large room, with tall windows covering almost the entire surface of the opposite wall, quite similar to the general office space shared by the rest of the employees. A wall on the left side procured an impressive display of library shelves to match the stateliness of the office. Behind a polished, redwood desk, an elderly man sat, looking dignified.

Ichigo could only assume the man sitting behind it was the one who Rukia had wanted him to speak with, and possibly his future employer. The man didn't appear to be very concerned with getting up and greeting him. The woman in the corner, whom Ichigo thought to be this daunting Yoruichi, stared him down, her grin remaining. Behind the fire of her eyes however, Ichigo felt she was calculating him, evaluating his worth.

Ichigo cleared his throat.

"Rukia Kuchiki referred me to this company, and I am willing to take whatever position you may offer," he ventured.

"How unambitious," Yoruichi mumbled. Ichigo recoiled slightly, embarrassed. "Any position? Have some grit, boy."

"Come further, I haven't got all day," said the man behind the desk. Ichigo stepped forwards, taking the seat in front of the desk.

He felt nervous. "I haven't prepared a resume, to my apologies. I was unaware that we would be conducting an interview under such short notice."

Yoruichi clicked her tongue.

The man picked up the papers before him, examining them carefully.

"Kuchiki has made me aware of your skills, work experience and your relevant talent. I have also learned that you are currently employed as the top sports marketer at _Shin'ō's Digest. _Very impressive, however, to ensure that we do not waste time, I must ask of your capabilities as an artistic director for our sports section."

Ichigo swallowed, this was it. The deciding factor.

"I actually resigned today, in search of a new challenge. I am always looking to expand my horizons, which is why I passed on my time at _Shin'ō's._ I'm a very fast learner, very organized, though I have little experience as an art director, I would be willing to learn as much as it takes in the limited amount of time this industry presents."

Yamamoto leaned back in his desk, eyeing the papers in his hands. Yoruichi looked on intently, before walking over to the desk and leaning on it.

"When will you be able to begin working?" he asked finally. Ichigo almost sighed in exultation, before settling on a polite smile.

"As soon as I am needed."

Yoruichi's grin returned. "You can start tomorrow. Why not meet your higher-up though, eh? Got a moment?"

"Of course," replied Ichigo, nodding. He got out of his chair, finally able to breathe. Yoruichi picked up a landline phone, which Ichigo assumed connected to the receptionist's desk. "Yeah, Momo? We hired the guy. Yeah, that one." Ichigo watched Yoruichi as she continued on the phone, and the man at the desk remained an unreadable slate. She made a few noises of approbation, before chuckling. "Yeah, send him in. I'm sure he's _dying_ to meet his new assistant."

_Was that sarcasm in her voice?  
_

Ichigo thought deeply to himself for a moment. He supposed quietly to himself that his nerves were just fried for being held in anticipation for so long. A short moment passed before the door opened, footsteps entering the room.

"Ah, Grimmjow. Meet your new best friend," said Yoruichi, her voice sweet though her face roguish. Ichigo turned, to see a tall, muscular man with the most shocking head of hair Ichigo had ever seen. His face was twisted into a sneer, hands shoved in his pockets. Ichigo's brown eyes met sky blue.

"Who the fuck is this guy?"


	2. Chapter 2

thanks to everyone who was on this story right from the get-go! i've had this idea cooking for a little while, and i finally got the courage to play with it. happy reading!

* * *

"I'm sorry?"

Ichigo was baffled – _this_ was his superior? The blue-haired man marched right past Ichigo without so much as a second glance.

"Yoruichi, is this a god damn joke? Who is this kid?"

"Oh, come now, Grimmjow, remember our manners?" she said delicately, though her impish grin remained. "Use your inside voice."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a god damn child! Now, where's the new director?" he said, glancing around as if Ichigo were invisible. He pointed at Ichigo brashly. "Now that's a fucking joke, Yoruichi. He's a baby! Where's the real deal?"

Yoruichi grabbed Ichigo firmly by the arm and swung him in front of her, as if she was going to use him as a human shield.

"This is your new artistic director for your section, Grimmjow, former sports marketer from _Shin'ō's Digest._" The bluenette stared at Ichigo blankly.

Ichigo extended a hand, before he began to introduce himself.

"I'm—"

"Yeah, Ichigo Kurosaki. I know, Yoruichi told me." he said, oblivious to Ichigo's obvious distaste – and disbelief as to how someone could be so rude. "I just didn't think you'd be like, twelve. How can this guy be the new artistic director? He's carrying a god damn diaper bag."

"Messenger bag," Ichigo corrected under his breath.

"He looks just like the old one, if I do say so myself. Save for the bright hair. Looks like you two have got something in common!"

"Shut up, Yoruichi," Grimmjow hissed. He looked slightly deflated for a moment, before it appeared he began to register that this was, in fact, not a joke. "How old are you?"

Ichigo held back the urge to tell the man off, huffing to himself in place. "Twenty-two."

"You look like you're fuckin' fifteen years old." he said bluntly. "You know, I wasn't a huge fan of Kaien, but at least the guy's balls had dropped. I'm not a babysitter."

Yoruichi almost burst out laughing before Yamamoto, who had been sitting noiselessly, gave her a look. Ichigo, on the other hand, began to feel anger well up inside of him, first born out of frustration. He gave a sideways glance at Yoruichi and Yamamoto, as if to ask them if it was ethical to be placed directly underneath such a tactless man. Ichigo was almost disappointed; if it weren't for this guy's short-tempered, asinine personality, he might've been attractive.

Grimmjow continued to evaluate the young man in silence, before his phone rang out from his pocket.

"Talk to me," he answered. Ichigo disliked him already. "Uh-huh. Yeah. No. Yeah. Fuck that. Nah. Okay. I'm on my way out."

Yoruichi looked at him inquisitively. "Who was that?"

"Nnoitra struck a deal with some rep from one of those girly yogawear companies and he needs me to sign on it. You know how much reader buyout will go up if we put a nice ass in yoga pants in our section? A shitload. Plus, chicks love that garbage. I don't know about you, Yoruichi, but I sure as hell wouldn't pay 90 bucks to wrap my ass in some lycra." Grimmjow pocketed his phone, and grinned. "I'll see you around later. Nice to meet you, _art director_."

Ichigo felt a noticeable distaste enter his mouth at the way Grimmjow referred to him. Yoruichi gave him a sympathetic look before taking his arm. "He's an acquired taste. Come; let me show you around a little."

She led him out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"So pretty much everyone in this room is a staffed writer," she said, gesturing out towards everyone in the room, who typed away on a little computer, or chatted with someone the next cubicle over. "We've got some of the best journalists in the country working away in here. Where we're standing, this half is current events. Politics, economics, the boring stuff. Accounting is in the corner. Then over here," she continued, walking to the left, "is art and media. These people are pretty lucky; they get to interview near all the celebrities that walk through this door. Not to mention the free concert tickets, movie premiers, etcetera etcetera."

"Then, all around, we have a few offices. See, mine's over there, the one we were just in belongs to Old Man Yama. Then we've got human resources near the door, and Rukia's office is right over there. That one belongs to Ulquiorra Cifer – he's our arts editor – and that one's Suì-Fēng's – she's current events."

Ichigo glanced around; now having the breakdown of the space, the publication felt larger.

"Where do I get to be?" he asked tentatively. Yoruichi gave him a playful look.

"Sports is upstairs, along with fashion and pop culture – though that's better known as our gossip rag." She led him up the spiral staircase. "We bought out the whole upper floor here, so there's a lot more space."

That was an understatement. Ichigo took in the magnificent, airy room – tall windows lined every visible exterior wall, natural light pouring in. The ones untouched by the basic structure of the building were lined in distressed brick, complimenting the hardwood floors. Ichigo could only guess that the ceiling was heightened above regular standards, as it towered well above nine feet. On this floor, Ichigo noticed many more rooms bordering the floor.

"So, same deal up here. Over there's fashion, and editor Szayelapporo Granz oversees all of that, then pop culture which is under Gin Ichimaru, and sports, which as you know, is run by Grimmjow. That one there is Sosuke Aizen's, consumer marketing and Kisuke's got public relations and communication. Big ol' break room is in the corner. You'll get to know everyone in due time."

Ichigo glanced over at the array of desks, all of which appeared to be full. "So, where's my workspace?"

"You," began Yoruichi, winking at him, "are over here." She led him over to a tall set of crystal double doors.

"Wait, what?"

"You get your own office, dumbass. You're going to need space to manage all of the projects you'll be taking on."

Ichigo had hardly expected to have been given such a high-up position at an esteemed magazine such as _Konso_ was. Yoruichi laughed at his soft disbelief. "Alright, enough gawking. You'll be spending enough time there in a moment. I'm gonna send you home for the day, just to get your stuff together and all that."

"Well, thanks so much, Yoruichi," he said unaffectedly, heading down the stairs.

"Anytime. I'm the editor of editors, so if you have any questions, come talk to me. I like to think I'm a lot less scary than people make me out to be." she said, inveigling a laugh from Ichigo. "Just a few things before I cut you loose – don't leave your food lying around in the break room, Ōmaeda'll eat it. Use legible fonts in all of your online reports. Don't waste paper, plan your day's work in advance, and don't use the server to play Farmville or whatever it is. That's all basic, but my only piece of advice to you? Don't have an office romance. They just don't work."

Ichigo was about to respond, before he was interrupted.

"Hey, Yoruichi."

It was the same man from earlier on – Kisuke. He looked slightly apologetic at his interruption, but continued regardless. "Do you mind if we talk in my office? I've got a few things I need to show you. Hey, new guy. Looks like you're still in one piece, eh?"

"She wasn't nearly as bad as you made her out to be," said Ichigo, chuckling at the look Yoruichi shot at the lithe man. "I'll let you two get to it. Thank a lot, Yoruichi."

The bronzed woman winked at Ichigo, saying nothing before walking away with Kisuke, discussing important business. Now, he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to see Rukia.

"How's your first day been?" she asked expectantly. "I did most of my work at home, so I'm done for the day."

"Me too. And to answer your question… busy, but not horrible," he said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "The guy I work with is a complete asshole."

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez?" she questioned. Ichigo nodded. "You'll get used to it."

"He cut me off when I was introducing myself, Rukia," he complained as they stepped out of the office space and into the elevator. "My own damn name. How did a guy with his head so far up his ass make it so far up the ladder?"

"He's good at what he does." Rukia shrugged. "Men love his views and articles. Women just love _him_. Some people have gifts."

Getting into Rukia's car, Ichigo began to tell her about his interview and how the day went after that. He spoke happily until Grimmjow came back into the frame.

"Oh, and they said I looked just like the old director."

"Who? Kaien?" said Rukia, who took her eyes off the road for a moment. "Yeah, I see it now. He and Grimmjow got along pretty okay from time to time. I don't think anyone really likes him at first."

Ichigo simply grunted after that, and listened to Rukia talk for a while, until they pulled up in front of Ichigo's condominium.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Renji invited me to dinner at this new restaurant in Midtown. What about you?"

"Not much. Resting up for the big first day tomorrow, I guess." he replied, getting out of the car. "Gonna be a big change."

"Orihime starts in HR tomorrow, too. I'm excited for you two." she said, pulling the car door shut. She continued speaking through the open window. "Make me proud! I'll see you tomorrow morning."

With that, she left Ichigo alone. Making his way up to his flat, he wondered tomorrow would go. The nerves of a new job weren't uncommon, but Ichigo wondered how many people had to deal with a boss like _Grimmjow_.


End file.
